Close Call
by jsandoz
Summary: Catherine pays Grissom a visit but someone else is already there. Set mid-season 6. Spoilers: none. GSR


**AN: I don't own CSI.**

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They were doing the breakfast dishes when the doorbell rang. Grissom dropped his towel to go answer it. Sara pushed the window curtain aside and looked down into the parking lot. There was a very familiar vehicle parked there that hadn't been there that morning. "Grissom wait!" she whispered as loudly as she could. "It's—"

An insistent knock cut her off. "Come on Gil," Catherine called. "I know you're in there. I brought the alcohol, we both have the night off and it's been ages."

Sara looked down. She was wearing a pair of very short shorts and one of Grissom's shirts. There was no way that this could be mistaken for anything other than what it was, especially not by Catherine. "Shit," she whispered, thinking quickly.

"Sara…" His eyes were wide with panic. "We're sunk."

She darted over to him. "No we're not. Count to twenty and then open the door. If she asks about my car, tell her that I'm in the bathroom. I'll handle the rest."

"Are you—?"

"Sure? Yes." She kissed him on the tip of his nose. "I've got this." She sprinted away from him, and without a better option, he closed his eyes to count.

When he reached twelve, the doorbell rang again. He couldn't hear Sara anymore so he shouted "Coming" and counted the last eight seconds.

Catherine stood on his doorstep with a paper bag in her hand and her eyebrows raised. "Did I wake you?" she asked in surprise. He rarely slept late.

"No, no," he said vaguely, trying to sound at ease instead of terrified. "I was just doing dishes. You can put that on the counter," he added, gesturing at her bag.

As she turned away, her eyebrows drawn together in a perplexed frown, he stepped back and felt the side of his foot brush against something soft. A scrap of blue silk. He almost groaned aloud. Today of all days had to be the one when they couldn't make it as far as the bedroom. There was nowhere to hide it and if Catherine saw it—which, being a CSI, she undoubtedly would—they were dead. She was already turning back around.

Luckily for them, Hank chose that moment to bound down the stairs and give a very enthusiastic greeting to the visitor. While Catherine was distracted with returning his affections, Grissom discreetly shoved the panties under the couch with his foot.

Once Hank had calmed down, Catherine turned back to him. "See Gil? We don't do this enough anymore. Even your dog misses me."

He managed a small chuckle. "You're right." But Catherine wasn't looking at him. She was looking past him. He followed her gaze. Sara's wallet, jacket and keys were sitting on the couch.

"Sara's here, isn't she? I thought I recognized her car."

"Oh, yes. She just stopped by before shift. Uh, she's in the bathroom." Damn, he was never good at lying, especially when it meant using someone else's story.

Catherine looked at him appraisingly. "Right. And you made her breakfast."

He was trying to figure out whether her last sentence was a question, an accusation, or just a statement when he heard a toilet flush. They waited in silence, Catherine still scrutinizing him too closely.

A minute later, Sara appeared at the top of the stairs, fully dressed for work.

"It looks like you've been holding out on me," Catherine called to her.

Sara smirked and shook her head as she walked down the stairs. "Sure I have. It's nice to see you too Cath." She picked up her things and shrugged into her jacket, appearing completely relaxed. "Well, I have to work tonight, unlike some people, and I promised Greg I'd be in early to help him with his homicide. See you both later." She picked up a book from the counter on her way out and held it up. "Thanks for this Griss. I'll get it back to you as soon as I'm done."

It took him a moment to find his voice. "Keep it as long as you like."

She grinned and it occurred to him that she was actually enjoying herself. "Be careful what you wish for." She raised a hand in farewell, the door opened and closed, and she was gone.

Catherine's voice broke the silence, reminding him that they weren't yet in the clear. "_Native South American Carrion Beetles_?" she asked skeptically. "I didn't know Sara was into that stuff."

Since she was using the same tone for talking about being "into" bugs that most people would reserve for referring to a person's pornography preferences, he decided to stick as close to the truth as possible and not stretch his limited acting skills. "I gave her an entomology textbook for Christmas last year. She wanted to do some more reading." He warmed up to the act a little and looked at the clock unnecessarily. It was nearly 9:00. "I guess we really got talking."

'Yes, _talking_, Gilbert.' The voice in his head was becoming eerily similar to Sara's. 'Among other things.' He hoped Catherine wouldn't notice the blush beneath his beard. She was busying herself with pulling bottles out of her bag.

"So you're leading another disciple down the slippery slope to buggy heaven?"

"It's a ladder Catherine," he said with mock-reproach, "an ascent of illumination."

"Oh shut up Dr. Grissom," she laughed. "You're just excited that you've found someone to match your level of geekiness."

He held up his hands in surrender. "You caught me!"

"Of course I did. I always do." She handed him a bottle and a corkscrew. "Make yourself useful."

"Yes dear," he replied with a sarcastic smile that belied his meek tone. 'Not this time Catherine. You haven't caught us yet.' They were safe.


End file.
